


Heatwave

by zetuslapetus



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, i hope this comes across as soft as i meant it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23938573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetuslapetus/pseuds/zetuslapetus
Summary: The mama van breaks down on the highway before Beth can make it to a drop, cue Rio, Rio's hands, Rio's G wagon.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 22
Kudos: 204





	Heatwave

**Author's Note:**

> This porn was brought to you by that shot of Rio's hand on Beth's thigh. Please enjoy responsibly.

It’s an unusually hot day for Michigan, the air thick and heavy with moisture. In the far distance, Beth can see the beginning of a beautiful sunset, the heat still shimmering across the highway in front of her.

She’d broken down an hour from the border, the van had jerked once, then again. Billows of smoke undulated from beneath the hood until she chugged to a stop on the shoulder.

Her stomach growls, reminding her that skipping lunch was a bad idea. Between opening the Paper Porcupine this morning, to carpool and soccer, she hadn’t had time for much else. She shifts against the leather and peels one leg off the seat, then the other. She shifts again, pulls at her dress, and considers letting out a scream. 

Reaching for her phone, she checks the time. It’s been two hours.

She checks her messages. Nothing. 

Her last outgoing to Annie and Ruby to let them know she was okay and one from  _ him _ .

She’d debated not telling him but the six boxes of cash in the back weren’t making it to its final destination tonight, and he was bound to hear.

She’d typed out a quick message, deleted it, and re-typed it three more times before she’d finally sent it off.

_ Won’t make the drop tonight, car broke down. _

He’d responded faster than Annie or Ruby.

_ Where are you? _

_ It’s fine, I called AAA. _

_ Elizabeth. _

It was hot and she hadn’t felt like arguing so she’d sent him her best guess of where she was. Where the  _ cash _ was.

The sunset is beautiful, streaks of pink and orange cover the sky when the realization that it’s dark in twenty minutes and she’s alone on the highway rocks her. She shifts, squeezes the phone in her palm as an uneasiness blooms in her belly. 

Time passes, she doesn’t care to look at her phone and check how long. The sun is almost set, which she hopes will bring some relief from the heat.

She blows a puff of air at her bangs, pushes them back with her fingers when they don't fall in place right. Sitting up, she checks her reflection in the rearview mirror. Her cheeks are flushed pink, her mascara a bit smudged.

She rolls her shoulders, then her neck, and then something catches her attention in the side mirror.

A car, still far behind but pulled off in the shoulder lane, as she is. Her heart rate picks up as she squints into the mirror. The sun is almost completely gone, but there’s still enough light out for her to recognize the car when he comes to a stop. 

He turns the car off but keeps the lights on. They’re so bright she has to look away.

She opens her door and steps out.

His silhouette is dark in the dusk light but she’d recognize his built anywhere. The distinct shape of a hoodie hanging halfway off the back of his head a dead giveaway. 

She stands there, waiting for him to walk up, just then realizing how  _ sweaty _ she is. 

_ Jesus. _

He gives her a nod when he's close enough, then dips his head to look in the back seat.

“You alone?” He frowns.

She nods, clears her parched throat before speaking.

“Annie had work and Ruby had a thing,” she waves her hand.

The muscle in his jaw jumps. She can’t help but look. 

“You shouldn’t be making drops alone.” 

She rolls her eyes, closes her mouth so she doesn’t scoff in his face. 

“The client expects a delivery,” she says, almost mockingly. She’d be willing to bet all the boxes in the trunk that he’s said that exact line to her before.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes shift over her hair.

She’d clipped it up earlier, the strands against her neck driving her crazy in the heat.

His head shifts, a tiny movement she almost misses, and his eyes drop down to her chest. She’s flushed, sweaty. The summer dress she’d worn that morning buttoned down the middle and she’d unbuttoned it well beyond her collarbones.

“Do you want to get the boxes?” She all but croaks. 

“Pop it,” he says and turns around. 

She grabs her purse, checks her messages, and debates calling the tow-truck, again.

When he’s done moving the boxes he meets her at her driver’s door.

“The tow-truck won’t answer my call,” she says.

“Leave it,” he says with a shake of his head.

“I can’t leave my - “

“Get in the car, Elizabeth,” he interrupts and turns back to the car. 

She opens her mouth to protest but it’s dark now and she doesn’t know how far she can push him before he leaves her out here.

She grabs her purse and joins him in the car.

He doesn’t say anything until they’re back on the highway.

“You need to get a gun.”

_ A gun. _

Her stomach drops, remembering the last thing she did when she had a gun.

She shakes her head.

“No.”

He looks at her, the highway lighting spills across his face in a way that makes her chest ache.

“No.” She says again. “I don’t want guns around my kids.”

He chuckles and squeezes the steering wheel so hard she can see his knuckles pale.

“Yeah, your kids know you launderin’ money across the border, looking like that?” he says with a nod to her legs. Her knees squeeze together, involuntarily reacting to his glance. She tugs at her dress which earns her another glance from him.

_ This _ wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t known he’d ask them to make a drop when she got dressed this morning.

“Looking like what?” she stammers out. She can feel her cheeks heat, annoyed at his assessment. 

He gazes at her again, eyes drifting over the loose strands around her face.

_ I like pushing it out of your face  _

His words echo in her mind and for a brief moment, she wonders if he’d meant it. 

His eyes stray across her chest for a fleeting second until they settle on her legs, again. Pale skin almost glowing in the dim, highway lighting. 

The rhythmic beat of her heart whooshes in her ear, quicker and quicker. She exhales through her mouth, willing herself to calm down. He hasn’t even touched her.

She relaxes her thighs, lets her knees fall apart the tiniest amount. The muscle in his jaw jumps.

She wonders what his hand would look like wrapped around her thigh. What he’d feel like.

“You look good,” he breathes out, turning his attention back to the road. “That ain’t attention you want, trust me.”

_ She burns. _

There a tension there, always, but she lets it run through her for once. She lets herself look at him.

He’s tense, she can tell from the way he holds his shoulders. 

She doesn’t know what compels her to speak, maybe being so close to him, maybe the night. She leans her head on the headrest, bares her neck. 

“Yeah?” 

_ She’s lost her mind. _

She spreads her legs a fraction more, shifts lower in the seat, lets the dress ride up a bit. His eyes fall to where the hem meets her thigh.

“Elizabeth,” he warns.

His hand drops from the wheel to the gear stick. She can’t look away from his hand, the rings that adorn his long fingers, the way they wrap around the gear head. 

“You can touch me,” she whispers and lets out a shaky exhale. Her insides flutter. 

His mouth falls open, she can see the tension radiating from his shoulders down into his arms.

There’s no turning back, she’s too far into this  _ game _ so she reaches out and grabs his wrist; he lets her.

She wraps her fingers around his hand and slides it between her legs, covering it with her own.

His fingers flex, palm opens to feel as much skin as possible before he  _ squeezes _ . 

Her hand drops away, arms falling to her sides. She grabs the edge of the seat with both hands, digs her nails into the leather.

His mouth is open, eyes hooded but still on the road. 

His palm is warm, solid. His thumb sweeps across her skin in a hypnotizing rhythm, up, down, up but he doesn’t move from where she placed him. 

She tilts her head back, pushes against the headrest, arches her back the smallest amount. The movement catches his eye.

She can only imagine how ridiculous she must look right now. Legs open, dress hiked up, cheeks red. 

His hand slides down her leg, to the inside of her knee. She frowns at that, missing the warmth. 

He hooks his fingers underneath her knee, lifts and spreads her open.

His hand shifts back to where he’d been a moment ago, then he slides up until his fingers slip beneath her dress.

He doesn’t stop until he finds what he’s looking for.

A gasp escapes her mouth when she feels him. Three fingers pressed right where she throbs, over cotton panties.

He’s breathing hard, and she can’t tear her eyes off his mouth.

He rubs her through her panties for a few strokes until that’s not enough, then he dips his hand inside the material.

She’s wet, and he lets her coat his fingers, enjoying the feel of silky, hot skin against his fingers.

He dips two fingers inside of her just to hear her gasp. He pumps his digits in and out a few times, then slips them out.

She whimpers at the loss.

He finds that bundle of swollen nerves and strokes her until she’s panting until she’s grabbing at the seatbelts for leverage to grind herself against his hand.

She hears him curse, feels the car sway slightly until the surface below the tires isn’t a smooth highway. 

In the back of her mind, she recognizes he’s pulled the car over, but she can’t focus on anything but the throbbing between her legs.

She comes with a scream, her thighs shake and close around his hand. He keeps stroking her until its too much until she has to grab his arm and pull him out. 

When she comes to she’s still holding on to his arm, his fingers resting in her lap, coated in her slickness. 

His pupils are blown, he’s breathing just as hard as she is. 

He clicks her seatbelt, the strap releases her, and she falls into him. 

“Get in the back,” he says but her legs are still weak from her orgasm, her mind still cloudy. She feels his hands around her waist, then she’s in the back seat, on her knees. 

He lifts her dress up, bunches it around her waist, and rubs his palms up her thighs. She grabs the headrest and pushes back into him, grinds herself on his cock. When she looks at him over her shoulder she realizes he’s still fully clothed. He’s staring at her ass, then he squeezes her hips and thrusts into her.

She lets out a gasp, then he does it again, this time he looks her in the eye.

A promise of what’s to come.

Without looking away, he unzips his jeans and pulls his cock out. He strokes himself, once, then again. She can’t help it, she breaks his eye contact and looks down. 

He’s hard, jutting up out of his jeans. His fingers stroke so elegantly that she thinks she could watch this forever.

She pushes back against him and he chuckles quietly. 

He slips a finger around her thong, pulls her panties to the side, and sinks into her. 

She keens, and her eyes roll into the back of her head. It doesn’t matter how many times they do this, there’s nothing like the first push of him into her body. The stretch, the burn.

Her head drops as he pulls out, then pushes in again, deeper. 

He squeezes her hips, pushes the material of the dress away so he can grab bare skin. He sets a rhythm, fucking into her. The only sound in the car is skin slapping skin, his grunts, and her moans. 

His head drops into her shoulder, then he slides a knee on the seat against her own. 

“Ride me,” he says into her hair and pulls her off her knees. He slips out of her for a moment, then he’s sprawled across the back seat and shes in his lap, back flush against his chest.

They’re both breathing hard. He’s got one arm across her middle, holding her tight against him. The other slides up her thigh until he’s got three fingers inside of her. He groans into her neck, buries his nose into her hair.

It feels so good but it’s not enough. She palms his cock, raises her hips just enough for him to understand, then shes sinking back down on his cock. 

He runs his hands up her sides, and she squeals, involuntarily. 

That earns her a laugh.

“Are you ticklish?” he mumbles into her neck. 

She doesn’t answer him, instead, she grinds down, twists her hips until he’s panting. He palms her breasts, holds her against his chest, and thrusts up into her. She slips one hand behind them, wraps it around the back of his head, and holds him there. With the other, she grabs the seat in front of her and meets his thrusts. 

It doesn’t take long, the stretch of her body over his own gets him there faster than he’ll ever own up to. 

He slips a hand down to where they’re joined and strokes her until he feels that telltale flutter around his cock. 

She comes with a cry, lets her body fall back into his.

He wraps both hands around her middle, thrusts into her as deep as he can, and comes hard. 

After a moment he shifts his hips, slips out of her body as he softens but makes no move to lift her off his lap.

When she can catch her breath she slides off of him, pulls her dress down as he zips himself up.

She looks at her watch, then she speaks.

“It’s late.” 

He nods, without another word he opens the door and gets into the driver’s seat.

She follows. 

He starts the engine, the dash lights up the inside of the car and he pulls back onto the highway with ease. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
